


a map without landmarks

by sci_fis



Series: Inspired by Siken [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abortion, Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angry Sam, Annoyed Sam, Big Brother Dean, Criticism of pro-lifers, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Sex, OC mpreg, Omega Sam Winchester, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protective Dean, Sam is 15, Sam is not pregnant, Scary Dean, Teen Pregnancy, Weecest, brothers in love, pro-choice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sci_fis/pseuds/sci_fis
Summary: A map without landmarks is useless. Sciencedreams its dreams of knowledge—names it, pokes itwith equations.- Richard SikenInspired by an episode of Sex Education in which a character accompanies a friend who is getting an abortion.





	1. Chapter 1

‘Hey, Winchester,’ someone yells, and Sam’s head jerks up.

Being an omega sitting in the waiting area of an abortion clinic is bad enough without being publicly called out, but Sam’s heard and seen worse.

‘What?’ he says shortly.

Craig from math class, curly-blond-haired and beta-bright, brandishes a home-made sign at him from outside the glass doors. It says _I was a fetous once_.

‘Wonder what your big bad alpha brother would say if he could see you now. He know you’re here?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Maybe I’ll just tell him for ya, huh? Maybe that’ll teach you to respect life more, shithead.’

‘Craig,’ the girl next to him says. ‘Just stick to the script, would you? And learn to spell, for god’s sake.’ She snatches the sign from him and shoots Sam a glance that’s almost apologetic.

Sam gives her a half-smile and turns away. Pro-lifer or not, it can’t be easy for anyone to spend a whole afternoon in the company of a total douche like Craig.

He glances at his watch from time to time, returning intermittently to the book between his knees. Paul’s procedure would take at least three hours, the nurses had said. Sam could come back and pick up his friend later, they’d said. But Sam hadn’t wanted to leave. He doesn’t really have anywhere to be—Dean works late on Mondays—and besides, he’d hated the thought of Paul, fifteen years old and six weeks pregnant, lying unconscious on a hospital table with no one waiting outside for him, worrying about him. Everyone deserves to have someone care for them.

A little while later, when he gets up to stretch his legs and look for some coffee, he realizes it’s been quiet outside for a while; apparently the picketers are done with their afternoon shift. Something nags at the back of his mind, something Craig had said that had set Sam on edge, but he can’t remember now what it was.

 

—

 

‘Hey, Dean.’

Dean slides out from under the car he’s been working on, wiping thick black engine grease on a rag before tossing it aside. The car’s a beautiful Cadillac convertible that’s definitely seen better days, now uncared for and abandoned; it’s been in the garage for the entire two months that Dean’s been working there. He hasn’t asked whom it belongs to. It’s good working on it to pass the time when nothing else needs his attention. 

‘What?’ he says, not in the mood for Craig’s assholery. He may be the boss’s kid, but Dean is one wisecrack away from landing a heavy punch on the kid’s nose. He isn’t even that fussed about Craig’s jibes, really; what fucks with him the most is the leering glances and sleazy remarks that the little shit directs Sam’s way pretty much every time Sam comes to meet Dean at work. 

Usually, Sam gentles him with a word or a brush of his hand against Dean’s sleeve, a tiny shake of the head that means _Let it go, Dean. He’s not worth it._ Today, Sam’s not here.

‘You wanna know a secret?’ Craig goes on, all swagger and no balls. He’s flanked by two of his flunkies, a stocky beta and a fairly muscled alpha. 

Dean doesn’t spare any of them a glance. ‘Not really, but thanks for the offer.’ He shrugs out of his greasy overalls and pulls on his jacket.

‘It’s about your bro-o-ther,’ Craig says in a hugely annoying sing-song voice. He pauses for effect, slurping on his soda.

‘Don’t you have homework to do, little boy?’ Checking that his wallet and keys are in his pockets, Dean makes for the door.

‘Little Sammy is a total slut,’ Craig says in a loud fake-whisper. 

Dean stops walking.

‘In fact,’ Craig continues, oblivious, ‘he’s the sluttiest little omega whore this side of the tracks. There, now you know. You’re welcome.’ 

Dean turns around, his face expressionless. ‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me.’

Dean takes a single step forward. He’s a head taller than Craig’s alpha buddy and has a foot on the betas.

‘Um, Craig?’ the beta mutters. The alpha is very still, watching Dean with narrowed eyes.

‘Don’t be a wuss, Alan.’ Craig crushes his empty soda can in his hand as though it’s some kind of impressive feat. ‘It’s three against one.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure,’ Dean says, his voice toneless. He glances at the alpha. ‘What do you say, Derek? It is Derek, isn’t it? I hear our dads are hunting buddies.’

He has the satisfaction of seeing the other alpha instantly turn pale beneath his expensive fake tan. ‘Dean _Winchester’s_ the target?’ he snarls at Craig. ‘Do you have a fucking death wish? I’m so outta here, man.’ He stalks off without a backward glance.

Dean flicks a glance toward Alan, the beta, who takes several steps back and crashes into an oil drum. ‘You have something to say?’ Dean asks, pleasant. ‘Out with it, sonny.’

‘N-no, nothing.’ The boy starts scurrying away, still walking backward, and Dean would’ve found it hilarious if his blood weren’t simmering at boiling point under his skin from Craig’s filthy words. ‘S-sorry, man,’ Alan mutters in Craig’s direction. 

Not even bothering to check if the two cronies have actually left the room, Dean turns to Craig, who’s standing frozen against the Cadillac, still clutching the bent soda can.

‘Care to repeat what you were saying?’ Dean says, toneless.

‘L-look, man, I don’t want any t-trouble, okay?’

‘Really? Sounded to me that trouble was exactly what you were looking for.’ Dean steps into the boy’s space and wraps his hand gently around his neck, flexing his fingers just a little. ‘Trouble’s what you would’ve got for opening your filthy little mouth and daring to say my brother’s name.’

He takes a slow step forward, his other hand on Craig’s waist, as though they’re slow-dancing. Craig’s pushed up against the car now. ‘What you said? That’s earned you at least a few broken bones. Maybe a crushed windpipe.’ Dean’s hand tightens on his throat, the tiniest inch. 

The air suddenly fills with the stench of ammonia, a huge dark stain spreading across the crotch of Craig’s jeans. ‘Look what you did.’ Dean glances at the pool of urine Craig is now standing in, some of it trickling under the car’s back tire. ‘You messed up my work.’

‘I—I’ll wash the car,’ Craig says, terror in every syllable, his voice shuddering worse than his body, his neck fragile as a twig under Dean’s hand. ‘P-please, mister.’

Dean raises his eyebrows, letting his callused thumb brush against Craig’s jugular.

‘Al-alpha, I mean. Alpha. Please.’

Dean presses down lightly against the thin skin fluttering beneath his grip. ‘You were saying something? About my brother?’

‘No. No, I swear. I won’t tell anyone. Let… let me go, please. Oh god.’

‘Won’t tell anyone what?’

‘Th-that he’s at the a-abortion clinic. P-please, alpha,’ Craig sobs, actual tears and snot wetting his face now.

Dean’s hand drops. Craig scuttles as far back as possible, his back hitting the wall with a loud thud, but Dean doesn’t hear it. The Impala is already screeching away, as loud as an enraged, wounded animal leaping for the kill.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam crumples the empty paper cup in his hand, the oily taste of the coffee still in his mouth. He drops it in the wastepaper basket next to the door and is about to head back to his seat when he hears the sound of an unmistakable car engine.

He pushes open the glass doors and steps out into the late evening sun. The Impala is at the kerb across the road.

Frowning in confusion, Sam waits.

When Dean gets out, he slams his door shut. Sam instantly knows something is terribly wrong.

Dean is across the road in several giant strides, his long legs eating up the space between them, before Sam is even halfway down the steps.

‘Dean, what—’

‘What the hell, Sam?’ Dean grabs him by the collar, two large hands fisted in the worn cotton. ‘The fuck is going on here?’

Sam’s instant reaction is complete annoyance at being manhandled. Then he realizes that Dean is shaking, but not with anger. He looks up at Dean’s face, at his brother’s eyes, wide with terror.

‘How did you know I was here?’ Sam asks, calm. And then, before Dean can respond, ‘Oh. Craig.’

‘Sammy, what are you—are you fucking pregnant?’ Dean’s gaze is raking his face, his hands clenched tight in Sam’s shirt as though it would actually kill him to let go.

Dean, Sam decides, does not deserve mercy so quickly. ‘What if I am? Huh? You gonna give me the pro-life lecture, too? Tell me how Jesus will hate me for killing my child?’ He’s still riled up after the things the pro-lifers had shouted at him and Paul as they were entering the clinic.

‘Sam,’ Dean chokes out. ‘Oh, god.’ His hands go limp, as though he’s a robot whose battery has just shut down, but they remain curled helplessly on Sam’s shoulders. 

‘Relax,’ Sam says, shrugging off Dean’s pliant hands. ‘I’m not here for an abortion. Asshole.’ 

He stalks down the steps and goes to the car, reaching through the back window for the cooler. Wrenching it open, he pulls out one of his protein slushies. Even though he teases Sam mercilessly about them, Dean makes sure there’s always a couple of them in stock along with Dean’s beers.

Sam walks around the car and sits down on the kerb, his back to the warm metal. Holding the cool cup against his forehead, he closes his eyes as he heard Dean’s boots on the asphalt. 

Dean sits down next to him, his body a couple of inches away from Sam’s.

‘My friend Paul is in there. He’s fifteen,’ Sam says without opening his eyes. ‘His boyfriend split his lip with his fist when Paul told him about the baby.’

‘God, Sam.’ Dean’s voice is low, hoarse. ‘I’m so fucking sorry.’

‘Why?’ Sam rolls his head around to look at Dean. ‘Because Paul’s getting an abortion?’

‘Because that alpha is an asshole and your friend deserves way better.’

‘Like me, you mean? I must be so lucky to have an alpha who thinks I’m cheating on him.’

‘Sammy, please. I didn’t mean—’

‘Yes, you did.’ Sam closes his eyes again, turning away from Dean. ‘You just assumed I went and knotted with another alpha and got myself pregnant.’

While they’ve pretty much been together in every other sense for the last couple of years, Dean has—in Sam’s opinion—a stubborn, misguided sense of honor, because of which he’s been refusing to knot Sam until he’s older. 

Dean puts a tentative hand on Sam’s knee. ‘Baby—’

‘Don’t you dare fucking ‘baby’ me.’ Sam shoves Dean’s hand away. ‘And don’t even start with your excuses. I know exactly what you’re going to say. You’re going to say we aren’t exclusive, that even if I was with someone else, it wouldn’t be cheating. Right, Dean? Isn’t that your bullshit excuse this time?’

‘Are you done with your drink?’ Dean tilts his head toward the plastic container in Sam’s hand.

‘What?’

‘Get in the car,’ Dean says, getting to his feet. ‘Please,’ he adds quickly.

Sam stands up, brushing himself off. ‘No.’

‘Sammy—’

‘I said no, Dean.’

‘Fine.’ Dean steps into Sam’s space, putting his fingertips lightly on Sam’s waist. Sam doesn’t object, but he doesn’t move closer, either.

‘I was fucking terrified when that little shit dared to… to suggest that you were here getting an abortion.’

‘Let me guess,’ Sam says, wry. ‘He called me a few colorful names, and you went all alpha on him.’ A sudden breeze lifts his hair, making the long strands spill across his face.

Dean pushes both his hands through Sam’s hair, holding it away from his eyes as the wind whips around them both. ‘I was so scared, Sam.’ 

He kisses Sam’s temple. Sam lets him.

‘I… I thought something horrible had happened, you know? I… I imagined the worst possible ways in which you might have gotten pregnant.’

Beginning to find a glimmer of understanding, Sam says, ‘I can look after myself, Dean. Paul’s parents are accountants. No one taught him how to fight off an abusive asshole. I’m never going to be in that situation.’

‘Maybe not with one alpha, Sammy.’

Sam blinks. ‘What are you… oh. You really did imagine the worst case scenario, huh?’ He has a sudden vision of Dean driving like a fiend to find him, nightmarish scenarios running through his imagination of Sam being assaulted by multiple alphas, even his hunter’s training no match against so many assailants. 

Deciding that Dean has been punished enough, Sam finally puts his arms loosely around his brother’s neck. ‘Even if anything like that were to happen, Dean. Even if I were to get pregnant, or whatever. Who do you think is the first person I’d tell?’

Dean just looks down at him wordlessly, as though he’s unable to figure out the answer. His arms are strong around Sam, but echoes of his earlier terror are still haunting his eyes.

Sam reaches up and touches his cheek, gently. ‘How could you think I’d keep something like that a secret from you? From Dad or anyone else, yeah. But not you, Dean. Never you.’

‘I thought… I dunno what I thought, ba—Sam.’

‘You can say it,’ Sam says, smiling a little.

‘Baby,’ Dean murmurs against his hair, leaning against Sam, the word leaving his lips on a long exhale, as though it’s an immense relief to be able to say it. ‘Don’t be mad at me. Don’t you do that.’

‘You gotta trust me, Dean.’ Sam strokes his fingers through Dean’s hair. 

Dean pulls back to look at him. ‘You know I trust you with my life.’

‘But not when it comes to this. Not when it comes to making my choices. You think I need to play the field before deciding on a mate.’

‘I never used those words. I just… you’re way too young to decide on a mate, Sammy.’

‘Yeah, maybe if it was someone else, someone I’d just met. But it’s _you_ , Dean. You’re my… you’re pretty much my everything. I keep telling you I’m sure, but you keep hurting us both by not listening.’

‘I _am_ listening, Sammy. I swear. Just… tell me again when you’re eighteen, okay? Tell me again when you can actually give consent.’

‘Here we go again,’ Sam mutters, trying to pull away, but Dean gently tugs him back into his arms.

‘You can hate me if you like, but I’m still gonna hold you while you yell at me, okay?’ Dean says, his voice soft. Pain is still lingering in it, and Sam hates the sound of it.

‘I just… I don’t understand how I can be old enough to use guns and machetes, to kill things, but not to decide whom I want to fuck.’

‘That was Dad’s decision. I never wanted you to have this life, Sam.’

‘I know,’ Sam says quickly. ‘But you have to understand that if I’m old enough to hunt, I’m old enough to choose you.’

‘Sammy, baby, I’m not going anywhere.’ Dean presses a kiss to his forehead. ‘When you’re old enough, I’m gonna be right here. If you want to, we’ll knot the second you turn eighteen. I swear.’

‘What if you aren’t there, Dean? What if _I’m_ not there? What if one of us, or both of us, die before then?’

Dean’s arms squeeze him tightly. ‘I’m never gonna let that happen, Sammy. Never.’

‘There’s so much we can’t control, Dean. So much that could happen.’

Dean sighs, soft, and it sounds like an extension of the wind. Sam shivers a little as it hits him again. It’s beginning to get cold. His jacket is inside, slung over the back of the chair he’d been sitting on.

Dean slips off his jacket and wraps it around Sam’s shoulders, and Sam feels a sudden lump in his throat.

‘Thanks,’ he whispers, leaning up on his toes to brush his lips against Dean’s.

‘Forgive me?’ Dean whispers back against his mouth, holding him tight.

‘For today? Or for being an asshole in general?’ Sam asks with a smile, letting Dean know he’s kidding.

Dean groans, leaning his forehead against Sam’s. ‘Let’s start with today. I don’t have the energy to go over my entire list of sins.’

 

—

 

Paul is still groggy when they pull up outside his house. His parents aren’t home, away at a conference for the weekend. Dean lifts him easily in his arms, carrying him into the house and depositing him safely on the couch. 

Sam heads into the kitchen to get some soup started. In a few minutes, Dean comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist and kissing his shoulder. ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘You wanna stay with Paul tonight? I can come back in the morning and pick you up.’

Sam turns around in his arms. ‘I’d like that, but you should stay too.’

‘Yeah?’ Dean says, looking immensely relieved.

‘Yeah, doofus. As if I’d leave you alone tonight after the trauma you put yourself through,’ Sam teases, leaning up to give Dean a quick kiss. ‘And it’s not like Dad’s gonna care where we are, anyway.’

‘He means well, Sam,’ Dean says.

Feeling impatience rise within him, Sam knows it won’t take much to spark another fight between them, but he doesn’t want to fight with Dean again today. He knows exactly what Dad thinks of omegas, how he keeps suggesting that Sam might be better off staying with Pastor Jim, how hard Dean has been fighting to ensure that Sam has the kind of freedom he does.

‘Hey, you know what?’ he whispers, putting his mouth to Dean’s ear. ‘I really fucking love you.’

Dean smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that reminds Sam how helplessly in love he is with his beautiful, sometimes infuriating big brother. ‘I really fucking love you too,’ he whispers back.

For now, it’ll have to be enough.


End file.
